


Introductions

by Paeonia



Series: Quo Vadis: The Extended Edition [5]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29430102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/pseuds/Paeonia
Summary: 1913, Fall River, MassachusettsA prequel to Daniel Sousa's story, set in the same world as my fic "Quo Vadis?"A little present for @Cuppa_tea_love, shared with her permission for Valentine's Day 2021.Many thanks to AnniePlusMacDonald for her help, including idea-bouncing, research, and costumes and wardrobe.
Relationships: Pre-Relationship - Relationship
Series: Quo Vadis: The Extended Edition [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1014780
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18
Collections: Fics from the Quo Vadis Universe





	Introductions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cuppa_tea_love](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuppa_tea_love/gifts).



Portuguese Mill Girls, Lowell, Massachusetts, ca. 1910-15

_1913_

It was morning on a warm summer Sunday, and across Fall River, the bells of the churches were calling their congregations: some announcing an eight o’clock service, others ringing later, announcing a service at nine. Each church’s flock responded in its turn to its call, some congregants arriving by motor-car, many arriving on foot. Each and every church-goer, young and old, great and small, was turned out in his or her Sunday best, the most fashionable ladies crowned with hats laden with sumptuous arrangements of ribbons, flowers, garlands of netting, dramatic arches of ostrich feathers that bobbed gently as the wearer climbed the church steps.

Up on the Hill — the demesne of some of the oldest and most respected of Fall River’s families — the bells that had heralded the nine o’clock services paused, and sounded again to strike the nine o’clock hour. Down below the Hill, closer to the river, the single bell belonging to a modest brick church also struck nine, and then fell silent; it did not need to call its parishioners yet, for the next hour of worship would begin at ten. Yet already, from all four points of the compass, little streams of people were trickling along the grid of brick streets to converge in front of the little church, laughing and greeting each other before going in.

Just down the street from the church stood five very young women, doing their best to stay out of the way of the passers-by. Mill-girls, of course: that was what any of Fall River’s residents would have taken them for, without thinking twice. Mere statistics made this a likely guess: there were more than a hundred textile mills in the city, humming with more than a million spindles that required the attention of thousands of mill-girls. 

There were other clues, of course. The girls’ dark eyes and hair and olive complexions marked them as five of the thousands of daughters of Portugal who had crossed the ocean over the last twenty years to build a better life in America by working in the mills. Their speech, too, was a mixture of Portuguese and English, with the proportions of the mixture depending on whom they were speaking to — and of what they were speaking: their present life included many things for which they knew no words in Portuguese, things that the girls — or their hard-working parents — had never encountered in the “old country.”

The church itself was another clue. Though it looked at first glance to be a modest old Yankee church, its original Baptist congregation had sold the building, and now it housed a Catholic parish — the oldest of several in the city — founded to welcome the Portuguese newcomers and meet their spiritual needs.

Like other mill-girls, these girls showed no outward signs of wealth. Their attire was not in the height of fashion; their hats were not as broad, nor as richly adorned, as the hats of the ladies up on the Hill. But there was nothing careless about their appearance: their clothing was immaculate, their white shoes and boots carefully pipeclayed, and their hats trimmed by the skill of their own hands, in as much of that year’s style as their careful budgets permitted. 

Though they may have looked like typical mill-girls, a sensitive onlooker would have quickly discerned that these girls were at the beginning of an atypical day. Instead of joining their fellow churchgoers, they were hanging back, looking away from the church and east toward Main Street in an attitude of expectation. One of them was clearly the leader of the little group and its main look-out, raising herself on tip-toe every so often to peer down the street. Another watched with her; they themselves were anxiously watched by two of the other girls. The fifth girl stood calmly in the back of the group, her dark brown eyes alert, her lips occasionally twitching with amusement.

“Flossie?” asked one of the anxious girls. “Flossie, what if he missed the train?” 

Flossie was the girl who was standing lookout. “It’s too early to even think about worrying about that,” she said. “He’ll need some time to get here from the train station.”

At that, the second anxious girl — the shortest of the set, wearing the frilliest dress — looked even more anxious. “From the train station? But what if he gets lost?”

“Oh, Luisa! Don’t be silly. They won’t get lost,” declared Flossie.

“We’re right off Main Street,” added Addie, the assistant look-out. Of the five girls, she wore the most elaborate hat. “And he’s not alone, right? Flossie, did he say anything more about who he was going to bring?”

Flossie patted her handbag. “I had a letter last night. His brother for sure, and then he was seeing if any of his friends could come.”

“Did he say how many?” burst out Delia, the first anxious girl. “Did you tell him there are five of us?”

“He didn’t say how many,” said Flossie cautiously, “He wasn’t sure how many might be able to come.”

The calm girl in the back of the group spoke up. “And you’re sure he’s going to recognize you?”

“Why wouldn’t he recognize me?” demanded Flossie.

“You’ve only met him — what, once?”

“ _Twice_. As you know, Kitty, so stop teasing. Besides, I’ll be able to recognize him. And I told him I’d wear a pink flower on my hat.”

Flossie stood on tip-toe again to resume her lookout. Kitty’s mouth twitched again as she glanced from the pink flower on Flossie’s hat to the veritable bouquet of pink flowers on Addie’s chapeau... up to her own hat, which was itself decorated with three modest pink flowers… to the hats of every second or third lady passing by. Her eyes fell again on the other girls, each one’s eyes fixed on Main Street, and she kept her own counsel.

Kitty Delgado and the other girls — Flossie Pavao, Addie Freitas, Delia Medieros, and Luisa Lopes — were employed at the same mill. They worked together, took their hurried breaks together, and shared their joys and interests and, when possible, their precious leisure hours.

Today was the day of a parish festival, a _festa,_ attended by Portuguese from all over the city. After Mass there would be a procession, a banquet, music and dancing. The girls had been looking forward to the event for some weeks, but in the last twelve days, events had developed that made the day even more significant.

The previous month, while Flossie was visiting relatives in New Bedford, she had met the nephew of a friend of her aunt. Two weeks later, she went up again; the young man came to call; and she returned to work the next Monday with the exciting news that the young man — and perhaps some of his friends! — would be joining them in Fall River for the _festa_ _!_ And that was why the five young ladies were standing outside the church instead of getting out of the sun and finding seats: they were waiting to meet Flossie’s visitor and welcome whoever might have come with him.

For this very special occasion, Flossie, Delia, and Luisa wore their very best dresses, of which none were new for that year; Luisa’s high collar signaled that her frilly frock was in its fourth summer of service. But their dresses had been starched and carefully ironed, and, through careful attention, had arrived without being wrinkled or crushed on sidewalk or streetcar. Their white, low-cut walking shoes were trimmed with bows and flowers.

Addie and Kitty were somewhat more reserved in their attire; both wore white shirtwaists with neat twill skirts — Addie’s pale blue, Kitty’s dove gray — and completed their ensembles with white boots. The simplicity of Addie’s attire set off the exuberance of her hat, lavishly trimmed with ribbons, flowers, and lace. Kitty’s straw hat was unassuming but precise. The three roses that trimmed it were of superior quality, a deep pink color, perfectly matched to its Petersham ribbon hat-band.

Luisa started as the great clock at City Hall struck nine-fifteen. “It’s not time for Mass yet, is it?” Of the five girls, she was the newest in America; she knew the mill-whistles and the churches’ bells, but she was still getting used to other clocks.

“Not yet, dear, we still have plenty of time,” said Addie.

“Maybe one of us should save seats,” said Delia.

Kitty hesitated. It was true that the church was filling up early. If she went in, she could save some seats, and if she brought Delia and Luisa with her she could give them something to do without hurting their feelings, and would it really make that much difference if they were introduced after Mass instead of before?

Not to her, probably. But it might not be the kindest welcome for this boy of Flossie’s and whoever ended up coming with him. And then how many seats would they need to save? It would look bad if they tried to save too many. And the church wasn’t that full yet. She decided to wait.

“Not just yet,” she offered. 

But there was no need: a minute or two later, Flossie waved the group forward.

“There!” she said. “In the blue jacket. He just passed that wagon.”

The young man’s face lit up in a smile of recognition. He said something to his companions, and they picked up their pace.

“Looks like he’s brought three,” reported Addie.

“It would have been nice if he could have brought four,” sighed Delia.

“It’ll be fine. This isn’t Noah’s Ark,” said Kitty.

“Oh!” Flossie turned to Addie and Kitty. “To introduce — him to you first, right?”

“Right,” said Addie. Kitty nodded.

“Thanks,” said Flossie, and turned back toward the visitors. As they drew closer, time seemed to sag, until at last they arrived. 

The young man in the blue jacket doffed his straw hat and bowed slightly. “Good morning, Miss Pavao,” he said. Flossie offered her gloved hand for him to shake and then turned to her friends. 

“This is Mr. Roberto Cabral,” she said, continuing in English. “His aunt, Mrs. Cabral, is a friend of my Tia Braga’s in New Bedford. Mr. Cabral, these are my friends Miss Freitas, Miss Medieros, Miss Lopes, and Miss Delgado.”

“I’m happy to meet you all,” he said. “This is my brother Lino Cabral.” Lino took off his hat and bowed; the other two followed suit as Roberto introduced them: “And these are our friends Johnny Vento… and Frank Sousa.”


End file.
